Jeff Jones, Week 2

“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting…”

This was written on my monitor this morning, in the same red scrawl as the Eliot quote from last week. This one , Bing tells me, comes from Edgar Allen Poe’s classic poem “The Raven”. A bit creepier than last week admittedly, and the recurrence unnerves me slightly, but you know what? I’m not concerned, because it’s not the only strange and unnerving thing to have happened to me this week.

Before I get into that, though, let me share with you the mundane. The town continues to be busy and packed with annoying people. People continue to prove how awful they are at driving. The weather has taken a turn for the worse, with nearly constant rain and the occasional thunderstorm. Prices for produce are gradually rising, a symptom of both crop shortages due to the drought and rising gas prices. I’ve still barely moved forward in my work. I’ve still yet to make any valuable friends. In summation: shit sucks.

About three days ago, I was driving back home after having gone into town, and I witnessed a car crash. I knew it was going to happen, too, as I could see the car in the intersection turning and the car in the lane next to me not slowing to stop at the light. It’s strange, though – when you see a car crash on TV or in a movie, you always hear the screeching of brakes or the sudden turn of wheels on the pavement. But not in reality; no, in reality, all you hear is this sickening crunch. The sort of sound that makes you utter an involuntary “ooh,” cringing at the mere thoughts it inspires.

Nevertheless, the cars hit each other. But the strangest thing was that, as the car in the lane next to me passed by my car, I saw into it and saw quite clearly three passengers – a driver, a passenger, and a suited man in the backseat. When I pulled over to help the people involved get things out of the way and get everyone medical help, there were only two people in the car. We pulled everyone out, called highway patrol, and got the cars out of the intersection. I then turned to the driver of the car and asked him, “Wasn’t there a third passenger? A man in a suit?”

His eyes widened and he stared at me for a moment. “You could see him, too?” A strange look came over his face then – I don’t know why it would be, but it looked a lot like elation. His mouth widened and stretched into a grin, he tilted his head upward and clasped his hands together as he began to laugh rather maniacally. “Thank you,” he began repeating, “oh god thank you thank you thank you!” He continued laughing the entire time that I waited there for highway patrol to arrive.

I asked the passenger of his car if he was alright, and he told me, “No. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but he hasn’t been ‘alright’ for weeks. I can tell you one thing, though,” he said as he lowered his voice and leaned toward me. “There was no third passenger. I don’t know what you saw and I don’t know what he thinks he saw. But there was definitely not a third passenger.” He then walked away without another word.

So that understandably unnerved me. But I put it in the back of my mind for a while.

Until just a few moments ago, when I sat down to write this. I walked from the bathroom into the study to sit at my desk, and as I did so I passed by the large window looking out on the street in front of my house. There, in the rain, on the other side of the road, was a very tall figure in dark clothing. I looked closer and squinted, trying to make out features, but couldn’t. Then the lightning flashed.

Standing there is a figure resembling an unnaturally tall man wearing a black business suit, but it clearly wasn’t that. No, that figure is certainly not a man; it has no face.

Note my use of the present tense: as I sit here, typing this update, he is still standing there, unmoving, staring through nonexistent eyes at my window.